like you wanna be loved
by loved in shades of wrong
Summary: When you can't explain love because there aren't cold, hard evidence that is consistent with every story, this is where the brain is most vulnerable. And after being strangled and nearly killed by her psycho English teacher, she's thinking screw it. She builds herself a door and she's ready to fight back. No more hiding, no more thinking things through; just do it.


Extended summary: But when you can't explain love because there aren't cold, hard evidence that is consistent with every story, this is where the brain is most vulnerable. Her intelligence hands her the short end of the stick in this situation. And after being strangled and nearly killed by her psycho English teacher, she's thinking screw it. She builds herself a door and she's ready to fight back. No more hiding, no more running away, no more thinking things through; just do it.  
Front row seats to snapshots of events through Lydia's mind on matters of the heart.

Note: Canon until mid-season 3 finale, fic starting from 'Currents'.

* * *

Lydia Martin is not a jealous girl. But when Stiles _fucking_ Stilinski walks in with that Hale girl, a twinge on her heartstrings causes an involuntary reflex from her arm and it whirls out and slaps the boy right in his bony chest as he walks by.

"Ow, oh whoa. Hey... uh, Lydia."

She stares at them with calculation, her finger wagging between them. "Are you two, like, dating now or something?"

Cora lifts an eyebrow. "Or something."

She looks toward Stiles for confirmation (or denial, really) and finds him staring at her dumbly.

"C'mon." Cora grips his arm and tugs him down the hall.

He looks back once and opens his mouth before closing it, looking like a fish. A big stupid fish.

Wasn't he supposed to be like, in love with her or something? It just doesn't make sense that he's prancing around the school halls with Cora. _She doesn't even go to this school_.

Scoffing to herself, she turns back to her locker when something catches in the corner of her eye. Aiden.

* * *

She believes that she truly did love Jackson. But that relationship during the last few months was poisonous and nothing but give and take. She gave, he took. She hadn't realised that she's been slowly building a wall around herself until Stiles treated her with more respect at the Winter Formal than Jackson had in the remnants of their relationship. Stiles built in a window and she got a glimpse of outside. She had forgotten what the sun looked like and how pretty the trees and flowers are. When Jackson left for London, she reinforced her enclosure. (The trees and flowers weren't worth the risk away from the comfort of protection.) The confusing months of her frightening hallucinations didn't help - in fact, it seemed to only have dented her walls and contracted the space around her.

When Cora grabs her, Lydia reminds the werewolf just how strong she is.

Then Stiles appears and tells Cora to let her go.

It's confusing her. And frustrating her. Is he leading both of them on?

Lydia Martin is a genius - she thrives on and comforts herself with facts and figures. But when you can't explain love because there aren't cold, hard evidence that is consistent with every story, it's easy to be frustrated and confused. This is where the brain is most vulnerable.

Her intelligence hands her the short end of the stick in this situation. And after being strangled and nearly _killed_ by her psycho English teacher (the first time), she's thinking screw it.

She builds herself a door and she's ready to fight back. There's no point in half living your life without taking as many risks as you can.

No more hiding, no more running away, no more thinking things through; just do it.

* * *

After all that's happened this week, Lydia is jaded and scared out of her fucking mind. And then Stiles has a panic attack and he's shaking and twitching and she has no idea what to do because nothing she's saying is helping.

He's getting worse; his panting is borderline hyperventilation. _Don't panic, Lydia. Think._

"Shh, shh." She grabs his face, stroking his cheek in a desperate attempt to calm him. "Stiles, look at me. Shhhh. Look at me. Shhh, Stiles."

His distressing eyes beg her to help him, the tips of his mouth are pulled down as his breath hits her face in sharp puffs. Something about his destroyed look does something to her heart and she can't stand it, she wants to take away everything he's feeling right now. Her brain is telling her to splash him with water. But she can't leave him alone. She does what her heart tells her.

She kisses him.

And it works. His breathing evens out and his chapped lips push back against hers.

She opens her eyes and almost smiles because wonder and daze looks back at her, masking the desolation and fear for his father, for Scott's mother and now Allison's father. His eyes soften at the edges and they flicker as they search her face, his breath slowly streaming rhythmically through his mouth.

Then she realises that she's panicking as well because everything she knows is useless to them right now, everything she can do cannot help the three missing people.

"How'd you do that?" he asks shakily.

She tries to hide her anxiety and feelings of hopelessness from her voice because Stiles is still hurting and his father's still missing and his best friend's still under the control of that Deucalion guy, and nothing is going right.

"It was really smart," he tells her.

She lets a ghost of a smile cross her face.

Her heart rates slows. Her frown eases. Stiles levels her.

* * *

Lydia Martin is not a jealous girl. But when Stiles fucking Stilinski looks at her with soft eyes and the tips of his mouth pulled up, and tells her that he'll never love anyone the way he loves _her_, it's hard to stay mad at him for trying to move on with his life. He doesn't deserve to be with someone who doesn't share the same intense feelings for him as he does her.

So she lets him go. But he'll always be more to her than the geeky awkward boy who's in love with her and she's glad that they're still alive and friends after everything they've been through.

"Wanna study tonight? Ethan's going out with Danny after school." Aiden smiles down at her and she rolls her head away, spotting Stiles with Scott.

When she had thought Aiden had died, her world shifted and her feet gave way. She never realised how much she _likes_ him, if the sense of relief that flooded her was anything to go by after his fight with Jennifer.

For now, she sticks with Aiden, where they're on the same page, where she can deal with the level of feelings he has for her because she's on that same level. For now, she sticks with something less tense, something her heart won't miss as much if she loses it.

* * *

The day Lydia graduates Beacon Hills High and leaves for Massachusetts is one she's both been waiting for and dreading since sophomore year when everything changed. Allison became her best friend, making out with the geek-turned-hottie Scott, Stiles telling her about his crush since third grade, screaming, Jackson turning into a huge ugly lizard, Peter Hale, screaming, Jennifer Crazy Bitch Blake, screaming, Boyd dying, Deucalion, screaming, kissing Aiden, kissing Stiles, her three friends _dying_ and then coming back to life, feeling like the third wheel between Allison and Isaac, Jackson visiting, screaming...

Point is, her life had changed more in the three years since Scott McCall was bitten than it had the previous sixteen years of her life. Life is more difficult now, but she wouldn't trade it for the four best friends she got out of it all.

And now they're all scattering across the country for the next chapter in their lives.

She blows out a breath as she turns at the security gate and smiles at her friends gathering to say goodbye to her.

Scott and Isaac put down her luggage near her feet and they each give her a hug and a farewell with promises to call.

"Hey, Lyd…" Aiden cups her cheek. "Good luck… with everything."

"Yeah," she says, smiling. She holds onto his wrist. "You too."

"Goodbye kiss? For old time's sake?"

"Forget it," she laughs, pushing her hand against his face.

He quickly pecks her cheek before stepping back.

Allison jumps into her arms and wraps herself tightly around her. "You promise to call me _as soon_ as you land, okay?"

"I promise." Lydia closes her eyes when she feels them prickling, and hugs her just as tight.

"I'll miss you, bestie," Allison sniffles.

"I'll miss you too."

"Don't forget to bring your mathematical theorem-winning Nobel Prize when you come back home," Stiles jokes, scratching the back of his neck.

"The Field's Medal is the one I'll be bringing." She smiles. "C'mere." She reaches up and slides her arms around his neck.

"I'm gonna miss seeing you and that beautiful strawberry blonde hair of yours everyday."

She grins into his shoulder before pulling back. "And I'm gonna miss your sarcasm and telling me how smart I am."

"You're really somethin', Lydia Martin."

She laughs lightly.

He squeezes her hand and looks down at her. "I'll call you every single day to tell you exactly how smart you are."

She squeezes back. "Deal."

* * *

Lydia Martin is not a jealous girl. But when Stiles Stilinski shows up on Derek's doorstep, bruised and bloodied on her Christmas break in Beacon Hills four years later, she can't help but feel that old _connection_ grip her heart.

After freshman year, Lydia eventually lost touch with everyone but Allison when calls were missed, texts grew shorter and emails were lost between emails to professors. Then in typical twisted universe fashion, she and Cora became roommates at MIT during her sophomore year, and then grew close when they found common ground with their shared interest in genetic mutation.

"Lydia," he breathes with a slight wince.

She tilts her head back and yells, "Cora! It's Stiles for you."

Stiles steps forward, clutching his arm. "Actually, Allison told me you were here."

Her heart flutters. "Oh." She watches her breath puff out the word in the cold Californian air.

"I'm kinda almost dying here," he says with a touch of exasperation, but his quip sounds different with the richer way his tone of voice soothes the jab.

"Right," she replies with the same amount of nonchalance. She swiftly turns away from the door and marches into the kitchen, expecting him to follow after her.

When she peaks over her shoulder as she grabs the first-aid kit from the bottom counter, she spies him carefully sitting on the chair he pulled out.

He looks different. He's a little bulkier, and his jaw is more defined and a little scruffy, the way he holds himself more confidently like he grew into his long limbs, and his skin's more tanned. His hair's a little shorter since the last time she saw him during the one Skype video call the five of them managed to have at the beginning of freshman year. And he has a freckle on his neck that wasn't there before.

But he still looks the same. With those soft brown eyes that tip down slightly at the corners, that crooked smile with straight white teeth, the slight awkward atmosphere about him, his fidgety fingers, that scar from the time he hit his head when he ran his jeep into a tree, and he still smells the same; laundry detergent, boy and grass… and blood.

Right.

She kneels down in front of him and takes out the items to clean his wounds.

"Lyd, I need to run out to get more-" Cora stops abruptly at the doorway to the kitchen with her hair damp and clothes crinkled. "Oh, hi Stiles. What happened?"

"You know, the usual; werewolf obsessed psycho killer looking for Scott." He shrugs and Cora nods indifferently. "I was distracting him, then he mentioned L- _ow_!"

"Sorry." Lydia winces. "Antiseptic."

Cora claps once. "Well, I'm gonna head out and grab some stuff. Don't bleed on the furniture."

Stiles turns his head, but Lydia tuts and grabs his jaw to face her again. He looks to the corner of his eye. "Uh, be careful."

Cora rolls her eyes. "I can take care of myself."

"Right. You being a werewolf and all."

"Be right back, Lyd."

"Okay. Oh, and while you're out, get some Reese's Peanut Butter Cups."

Cora leaves with a teasing remark about her addiction and a slam of the door.

"So um, where's Derek?"

"Vacation with his girlfriend. I swear his whole face lights up at even the mention of her name. It's nice that he's finally happy, though."

"Yeah. He deserves it."

They're quiet as she bandages the gash on his arm.

"Are you- ah, with someone?" he asks, and his voice has an edge to it like he's in pain, but Lydia isn't sure if it's from the question or from his bruises and cuts.

"No." She glances up. "You?"

"Remember when I told you about my… crush on you?" he asks instead.

She pauses. "Mildly."

"There was a ten year plan, you know?"

She gives him a look. "How could I have known? I'm not psychic."

He jerks his head at an angle and his brows flash. "You're something."

They share a smile.

"Wow, okay. Uhm. Lydia, I love you. I never really stopped. And-" He coughs. "It's okay if you don't feel the same way, or even at all. I just want you to know because I promised myself that I'd tell you because it's Christmas and romantic and I love you."

She rolls her lips together.

Lydia Martin is a genius - she's learned a lot these past six years, especially about boys. Nobody can tell her she looks beautiful when she cries and make her believe it like Stiles does, nobody appreciates her intelligence like Stiles does, and nobody makes her feel like she can do absolutely anything she wants with no judgement like Stiles does.

So she kisses him. Because her heart is yelling at her to just take a chance. Because she misses him. Because she can really fall really hard for this man if she just lets herself _feel_. Because she deserves to be with someone who doesn't treat her like crap and appreciates her intelligence, and- and someone who will literally go out of his freaking mind if she dies.

She feels him flail his limbs a bit before he grabs hold of her shoulders. He whimpers when she pushes her lips harder against his, and she pulls back quickly and eyes the cut on his bottom lip. "Did I hurt you?"

"Ye-yeah. But who cares." He grabs hold of the back of her head and pulls her closer as he sips around her mouth.

He kisses differently. Granted, the first and last time she kissed him he was having a panic attack and half devastated. It's also been over five years, but the truth is she never forgot about that kiss, the way he looked, the way he looked at her and what he said after.

She holds the side of his face and moves her lips to press against his top lip, hearing him suck a deep breath through his nose as his other hand pulls her up to sit on his knee before his hand slides around her hip. She pulls away with a hand on his slightly firm chest and their mouth resounds with a quiet smack, but the hand holding her head won't let her move any further than mere inches. His thumb strokes the skin right under the corner of her jaw.

"Sorry it's four years too late," she murmurs against his lips, eyes still closed.

He chuckles shakily and she can feel the vibration against her mouth and his breath against her chin. "It was worth the wait."

When she opens her eyes, she finds him already watching her, his lips stretched carefully in that crooked grin as his fingers move to play with the ends of her hair.

"But hopefully my five year plan won't span over the same way."

She cocks her head to the side. "What five year plan?"

"To get you to marry me."

He says it so definitively and confidently that Lydia can't resist. She sniffs, looking down her nose at him. "We'll see. You've got to catch up on three years worth of telling me how smart I am. That's over one thousand and ninety-five times."

"Wh- you- but I-" he sputters as his wrist spasms with rapid gestures, and then his eye twitches.


End file.
